


I—

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26296948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis answers the door.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 22
Kudos: 94





	I—

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Special thanks to MistressofLions for the bun <3
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The elevator doors swing smoothly shut behind him, and Ignis types in another quick text, one his phone swiftly auto-fills for him: _Are you awake?_ He’s sent the same thing dozens of times over dozens of mornings. At this point, the computer algorithms could probably handle his entire message thread with his wayward prince, but he takes care to tend to it anyway. For some reason he’ll never understand, he values each and every moment they share together, digital or otherwise. 

He’s also at his wit’s end and is surprised he manages to put up with Noctis at all anymore. Of course Noctis doesn’t answer. Ignis tucks his phone back into the pocket of his structured jacket, one that matches his sleek pants: an expensive suit befitting his job. Hopefully, Noctis is dressed the same, ready to pay their Citadel its due respect. Somehow, Ignis isn’t betting on it. 

He reaches Noctis’ floor, one reserved entirely for the prince of Insomnia, and passes by empty rooms occasionally occupied by plain clothed glaives or even Ignis himself when he’s too tired to make it home. It would be unseemly for the royal advisor to simply sleep on his prince’s couch. It would also be unseemly to show up half an hour early to his prince’s door, expecting and ready to redo that prince’s entire wardrobe and maybe force feed him a proper home-cooked meal, but Ignis does what he must. Somehow, despite knowing the futility of it, caring for Noctis is still his first priority. 

He knocks on the door once, politely tries a second time, and then bangs on it loud enough to wake the dead. A ‘thunk’ sounds on the other side, but not the worrying kind like a weapon going off—more like someone’s lethargic body toppling off a mattress and onto the floor, then footsteps flying across the polished hardwood. The handle fumbles around, and the door jerks open. 

Noctis stands there, breathing hard like he just ran, yet cloudy-eyed and half-lidded like he just woke up, hair very much in full bed-head and body absolutely naked. 

Ignis can feel his cheeks heating. He’s told Noctis _so many times_ that it’s not appropriate for the crown prince to sleep in the nude. There’s too much room for accidents. 

Like a sleep-ridden Noctis not bothering to change before answering the door. At first Ignis thinks they’ve finally crossed that line, and Noctis has just gotten _too_ comfortable with him, and then Noctis follows Ignis’ dazed stare down at his own crotch and seems to realize what’s happened. He promptly turns tomato-red. Evidently, he was just being lazy again. Some people shouldn’t be _allowed_ to sleep in. Or to live on their own. Noctis can’t even wake up responsibly. 

Then Noctis’ head jerks upward, and he awkwardly mutters, “It’s not you, I, uh, had a wet dream. That wasn’t about you. Or those hot gloves you wear for driving. It’s just... y’know. Morning wood. Totally normal.”

The glove stipulation was very unnecessary. But Ignis doesn’t say anything about it, because he certainly doesn’t have wet dreams about Noctis or Noctis’ propensity for falling asleep sprawled out across his lap like a long-time lover. Ignis swallows and agrees, “Perfectly normal.”

He tears his eyes away from it but can’t help but note that in his peripherals, the very conspicuous erection they’re speaking of hasn’t gone down. Noctis tries to justify, “You woke me up. Like, if I’d had time to think, I’d have put clothes on—”

“I called—”

“Yeah, well, I slept through it, but then I heard the knock and saw the time, so I just jumped out of bed and...”

“You should wear your underwear to bed.”

“I sort of ruined it last night.”

If possible, those cheeks turn even redder. The blush winds all the way down Noctis’ neck and crosses his chest, his broad shoulders and tight pecs—Ignis can’t help noting that Noctis’ training must be going well, because he’s developing quite the muscular figure. Maybe someday, he’ll even put Gladiolus to shame. Not that Ignis would want that. Noctis is perfectly attractive the way he is.

Objectively speaking, of course. Noctis fidgets, shifting his weight to his other foot and causing his morning wood to bob in the open air. “I mean, I know you phoned last night, I wasn’t masturbating then, I waited until you hung up—like, because normal people jerk off at night, not because your voice gets me hot or anything, I just—”

“Noct.”

Noctis gulps, “Yeah?”

“Please, just... get dressed.”

“Right.”

He stands there, stiff as a board, particularly stiff in one place, for an extra few seconds. Then he seems to rein in the embarrassment enough to lurch away. Noctis quickly marches off without closing the door, leaving Ignis to stare as he turns around and shows off his ripe backside, taut cheeks flexing with each steps he takes. Ignis sucks in a deep breath and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. 

When Noctis dazedly wanders back, he’s mid-way through a yawn, and only wearing boxers that fall too low down his hips and show off a trail of black hair that Ignis didn’t need to see right before a council meeting. With a sigh, Ignis grabs his prince’s wrist and drags them both back into Noctis’ apartment, glad they still half an hour to get both of them—if possible—at least halfway decent.


End file.
